


Falling Scales, Shifting Sails

by orphan_account



Series: RT Hybrid Story [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Hybrid - Freeform, Mentions of Death, Minor Character Death, Stalking, hybrid humans, mentions of torture, minor OCs - Freeform, rt hybrid AU, spooky secrets later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe this wasn't as innocent as they all thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i might need to add a violence warning later :///  
> i will be updating on any changes to the warnings or anything like that in the notes preceding each chapter, so check in here if you have any things you don't like to read about before you start the chapter.

“Would you eat carrot cake?”

“What? No, why would I?” 

“Well, you seem to really be enjoying carrots of late, so...” There’s a beat of silence. “What if, say, I had 200 dollars, an-” 

“No. Fuck no.” Ray sticks his tongue out and fake gags. 

Gavin makes a whining sound of disappointment. “You’re no fun.” 

“Oh, please. You’re being a little bitch, Gavin. Need I remind you that you’ve gone through, like, three bags of sunflower seeds in the last two hours?” Michael snorts. 

“Oi! Sunflower seeds are top!” Gavin protests. 

“You know, this raises an interesting point.” Ryan comments from the couch. The AH crew are sitting at their work stations, recording the next Minecraft Let’s Play. This one was a sort of scavenger hunt, which left periods of quiet concentration to fill with idle conversation. 

“What’s that?” Jack responds after a moment. 

“We’ve all been kind of... I dunno, adapting to the animals we mixed with? A noticeable difference in how appetizing foods that are in your animal’s natural diet is probably the easiest example, but there’s other stuff, too.” 

Grunts of agreement float around the room. “I literally pounced on Gavin the other day,” Michael giggles after a moment. 

“Yeah, I remember.” Gavin mutters bitterly. 

“It was fucking funny. You were all squawking, and you fluffed up and shit. I wish we filmed it.” 

This gives Gavin an idea. A really, very excellent revenge plan, to be precise. He glances up at Lindsay, who is filming behind the scenes. He’ll have to enlist her help. Hopefully, she won’t rat him out to Michael, or it’ll be ruined. He’ll have to let all the other AH members know, too, so they don’t miss the show. He had been unlucky enough to be pounced on in the middle of the most public area of the office. Plenty of witnesses were present for Michael popping off of a cabinet top and onto his head. 

Oh, he thinks. This is gonna be good. 

\--- 

Gavin grins as Geoff silently hands him the little metal cylinder. The rest of the crew, plus a discreetly filming Lindsay, are nonchalantly idling around in the office. Michael, headphones up and wearing a look of intense concentration, is editing what looks like Ragequit. Gavin struggles to stifle his giggles as he takes aim and presses down on the little button. 

A tiny red dot appears next to Michael’s keyboard. 

He doesn’t seem to notice it, and Gavin worries for a moment if his plan isn’t going to work. Then he catches the flicker of movement as the cat hybrid glances down at the dot and back up at his screen. His ear gives a tiny flick. 

Oh. Oh yes. He seems to be fighting the urge to stare at it, but Michael glances at it every couple of moments. Gavin quickly realizes that this won’t be enough and flicks the light up to rest right beside his monitor’s display. The result is immediate and fantastic. 

Both of the redhead’s hands fly up and smack the dot, knocking his monitor back several inches. Gavin flicks it up to the wall. Michael follows instantly, tail flicking around like crazy. He throws himself up on his desk, knocking things off, batting at the wall with blown pupils. The Brit moves the pointer back down onto the desk, then to the floor. Michael practically barrel rolls off of the desk and slams both hands onto red beam. 

He seems to notice Gavin’s feet. His gaze travels slowly up his body, then settles finally on the laser pointer. In two seconds, Gavin is on the ground, squawking and screaming while Michael shouts and pummels him with his fists. The office erupts into thrilled laughter. Lindsay takes a step back and gets a better angle on the action happening on the floor. 

Michael wrenches the laser pointer from Gavin’s hand after pinning him and throws it against the wall as hard as he can, nearly smacking Jack in the face. “Fucking moron. What the fuck, Lindsay?” He says as he climbs to his feet, finally noticing his fiancée filming the whole ordeal. “Did you know about this?” 

She ducks her head a bit and calls out a small “Sorry!” but doesn’t even try to hide her grin. Behind Michael, Gavin quietly climbs to his feet and withdraws another laser pointer from his pocket. He shines it at the wall behind Lindsay. Michael jumps. 

“Oh, you MOTHERFUCKER!” Gavin screams and runs from the room, Michael on his heels. Lindsay follows the pair out of the room. 

“This is going to make a great RT Life.” Geoff comments as he turns back to his screen. 

“Guess you were right about the mannerisms thing, Ryan.” Ray shakes his head and goes back to his work. 

It had been a theory up until that point, but Ryan had his doubts that a regular human male would climb onto his desk just to chase a laser dot. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder just how far it would go. Being part cow hadn’t really caused him much grief beyond occasionally craving grass and having a newfound appreciation for the smell of freshly cut lawns, but he had really started wondering if it would stop here. People in positions of authority tended to be predatory animals. Policeman, Presidents, CEOs- Wolves, Eagles, Tigers. The animal you mixed with seemed to match your personality, so it only made sense that people who fought and clawed for power would reflect that with sharp teeth and claws to match. 

But would predators go so far as to hunt their natural prey? Ryan wasn’t so sure he knew the answer. Michael never meant any harm by pouncing on Gavin, but he also threw himself to the ground over a beam of light only minutes ago. 

Well, it was an interesting thought, no matter what. But he shouldn’t concern himself with it too much until- no, unless it became a problem. 

\--- 

As it turned out, Michael could purr. This discovery was rather embarrassing for him, but absolutely thrilling for Lindsay, who had already sprouted golden retriever features and had a good laugh over the irony of a cat marrying a dog. You scratch behind Michael’s ears, and he purrs. 

You scratch behind Jack’s ears, and he growls. 

Caiti had just come in to drop of his lunch, and was leaving him with a quick kiss and a rub behind the ears. Lions can’t purr. A low, rumbling growl took its place. While the sound was made in pleasure and not anger, Ray still jumped out of his seat and pressed himself into the corner, ears sticking straight up. 

He flushed in embarrassment a moment later, pulling a beanie over his sensitive rabbit ears and biting his lip when Michael giggled lightly. At least he was the only other person in the office to witness such a stupid act. Ray had a rep to uphold. What that rep was, he wasn’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t a goddamn skittish fuck. No, he was a brave little rabbit boy. No, rabbit man. Okay, that’s just kind of stupid. He’s too caught up in his thoughts to see Jack looking sheepish and gritting his teeth. 

It was really starting to get silly how often Ray would be startled by predator hybrids, though. He still jumped a little bit when cat hybrids yawned, showing off pointed fangs that were built to take down and tear apart rabbits like him. He wasn’t too comfortable being alone in a room with predators, and elevators had become disastrous enough that he often took the stairs up to his apartment. If anyone asked, he’d make up some bullshit about wanting more exercise. It felt a little silly to say that the hawk who gets home around the same time as him makes him too nervous to stand the ride up. 

So Ray doesn’t really say anything at all. He’d probably just end up making the other guys think he was weak, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m gonna fly!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing new to report.  
> I guess I'll mention now that Millie isn't going to be mentioned beyond the notes you are reading right now because she is not of age to consent to being featured in RPF.

As it turned out, Gavin could fly.

Just not at first. 

“You’re going to fall and die.” Geoff punctuated his disapproval with a wave of his Thursday night beer. 

“Nonsense, Geoffrey!” Gavin chirped. “I’m going to fly! ‘Sides, it’s a bit hard to fall four feet to your death, ‘innit.” 

“Whatever, dipshit.” Geoff took another sip from his bottle. Gavin grinned and hopped up from the couch. The older man sluggishly followed him into the backyard, where he had already climbed atop the patio table and was pulling one of the metal chairs beside it to rest beside him. Once on top of the chair, he looked back at Geoff with an excited expression. 

“I’m gonna fly!” 

“Let’s see it.” Geoff replied, bracing himself to run and grab a first aid kit for the idiot. 

Gavin flung himself off of the chair. He landed in the soft grass on his feet, but fell into an awkward forward roll when his momentum tipped him straight forward. Along the way, he made an incredible array of squawking screams. 

“Nice, dipshit.” Geoff commented a few seconds later once Gavin had stumbled to his feet and started pulling at the feathers that had shifted out of place during his descent. “Maybe you should try, I don’t know, opening your wings or something?” 

Gavin looked up from his preening and stared straight ahead. “Huh. Guess I should.” 

Geoff pressed his palm against his eye. “Oh my god, Gavin.” 

It took six more tries before Gavin could convince his wings to open up for flight before he hit the ground. At eleven, he was sporting a skinned knee and several bruises, but could glide about eight or so feet. Try twenty-three had him flying inexpertly around the open space of the yard, climbing and dropping vertical height at random as he screeched his victory to Geoff. 

He landed clumsily a few feet from the tattooed man. “Jesus dicks, Gavin, I thought you were going to go straight into me.” Geoff huffed. 

“Haven’t got the hang of landing yet. But, I was thinking... I want to jump off the roof!” Geoff burst into laughter. “What? Why are you laughing, you pleb? I’m being serious!” Geoff gave a few more shuddering wheezes before he could respond. “How about we hold off on that one until we’re both sober, buddy.” 

Gavin pouted. “But I’ve just got the hang of it! I We ought to do it while the memory is still fresh.” 

“Is the memory going to be too old to recall tomorrow afternoon? Jesus, you must have hit your head harder than I thought when you dove straight into the ground earlier. There’s still dirt in your hair, by the way.” 

“Ah, wha- You said it was all gone!” 

“I lied.” 

In a more sober state, it took more convincing to get Geoff to let Gavin jump off the roof. But in the end, the ram hybrid dragged out a ladder from the garage, and the British bird boy leapt from the tiles into open air. 

And he flew. 

They considered that they might have approached it too carefully in the beginning. He had gone from stumbling about and having little control to having all of the grace of an eagle, floating sluggishly and landing without trouble. Throwing the four year old into the deep end with the options of ‘sink or swim’ summoned Olympic level discipline, no lessons required. But Geoff wouldn’t have allowed Gavin to jump off of the roof unless he knew that his wings would support his weight. Say what he would, he just wasn’t that stupid or cruel. Gavin was practically his kid, after all. But with this newfound ability, Gavin found a new restlessness that he could not ignore. He had to fly at least once a day. The alternative was itching muscles and constant fidgeting and absent mindedness. The longest he went after the first time without flying was a few days for a con appearance, and it was maddening. On the final day, he woke up to find his hotel bed covered in feathers. His wings were missing small tufts and had scabs. When he explained the situation to Burnie, who was sharing his room, they figured out from the fuzz in some of his nails that he had been scratching at them in his sleep. So Gavin often flew to work, and sometimes went for short flights around the building airspace during his lunch break. On this particular day, he decided to eat on the roof once he had made a few loops around the perimeter. 

He was a bit surprised to find Michael perched on the ledge. The cat hybrid had somehow found time to sneak up between Gavin going in for his lunch and flying up. He had noticed the empty desk when he walked into the office, in retrospect. 

Gavin landed behind him. One of Michael’s ears twitched and swiveled back a bit, though he did not turn his head. “Hey, Gav.” 

“Hi, Michael.” Gavin walked the few steps forward to the raised ledge and sat down, unwrapping the pulled pork sandwich Geoff had packed him. “What are you doing up here?” He asked before taking a bite. 

Michael shrugged. “Same as you, I guess. Working the muscles.” The red head took a bite of the banana he held in one hand and continued. “I get, uh, kinda twitchy if I don’t climb stuff or run around. I thought cats were supposed to sleep 20 hours a day or some bullshit like that, but I feel like I have to run and jump and climb, like, all the time. It’s fucking annoying as hell.” 

“You climbed up here?” Gavin’s jaw dropped a bit when Michael nodded. 

“Whenever I see walls and shit, I automatically fucking analyze them for ways up. I’m like... Fuck, I can’t think of a cat pun that goes with ‘parkour’.” 

“We can’t all be Barb, I guess.” 

“Guess not.” Michael snorts. 

They finish their lunches in silence. Gavin waits on the roof to see how Michael gets down, but is slightly disappointed when the cat hybrid points at the roof access door behind where they had been sitting. He supposed it couldn’t always go both ways as he fluttered to the ground and deposited his wrapper in the trash on his way in. When he entered the office, the first thing he noticed was how uneasy Ray looked. His ears were pointed directly up and he was staring at nothing in particular with bugged out eyes. 

The next thing he noticed was Geoff. He looked absolutely pissed. 

Gavin took his seat and glanced around the room. Ryan and Jack were exchanging worried glances while Geoff stared down his screen and Ray continued to sit still as a statue. A few moments later, Michael entered and paused in the doorway for a moment before slowly sitting at his desk. 

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked when no explanations for the unusual behavior around the room arose. 

“They’re trying to pass laws that make it illegal for hybrids of animals that are considered “prey” to be out past 11:00 pm.” Ryan responded after a moment. 

The shocked silence is fogged with tension. Gavin is completely shocked and works for a moment on processing just what that means. “Why?” Michael asks, having worked it out a bit faster. 

“Violence prevention.” Geoff growls. “There’s been problems with predator hybrids attacking their natural prey, and they think that enforcing a curfew on the attacked will fix that.” 

“They’re also trying to restrict the hours that you can drive if you’re...” Ray’s voice is a bit hollow. 

“This isn’t fucking okay. There’s no fucking way this bullshit will pass.” Michael starts fuming, climbing to his feet and pacing across the short length of the office. “I mean, come on. That’s total bullshit. They can’t just... How fucking stupid are they, anyway? Like, I get that this is Texas, but-” 

“Exactly.” Ryan cuts in. “We’re in Texas.” 

“There’s no shortage of ridiculous, unfair laws here. This may seem over the top, but... I’m just not sure how it’s going to play out, since the whole hybrid thing is pretty new. We don’t have any precedent or policies in place to protect ourselves and each other.” Jack follows. 

“No. No, they can’t do this. They can’t.” 

“Michael.” Geoff seems like he’s been awake for a year when he speaks. “This is really stupid, but we have to keep working.” 

There’s a pause. Then, “Okay.” 

The Let’s Play they record is noticeably tense. No one is able to unwind enough to really have much fun, and Michael explodes much more often than usual. Ray speaks four times throughout the hour long recording session. 

When five o’clock finally rolls around, everyone seems eager to leave. Michael pauses in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, to call back to Ray and Gavin who still sit inside. “We still on for swimmies tomorrow?” 

Both boys nod. 

Bad news wouldn’t ruin their good time. Besides, that law wasn’t going to get passed, no matter how stupid the lawmakers were. 

So, when noon rolled around the next day, the three boys splashed around in a sun-warmed pool to try and beat the hot air hanging all around. The scent of chlorine mingled with that of alcohol shortly after dipping in. Lindsay and Meg laid out on the beach chairs provided by the apartment, chatting and laughing at the antics of the three in the pool. 

Ray took advantage of his sober state as Michael and Gavin grew more intoxicated, slipping out of their grasps during wrestling and dunking Michael under the surface when he started trying to ‘secretly’ conspire with Gavin to “join forces with Mogar to take down X-Ray”. Their laughter rang through the heated air, along with sloshing as Gavin sprung toward Ray to avenge his teammate. Their antics stopped when Ray suddenly froze and took on the same uneasy look from the day before. Michael, having a bit less alcohol in his system than Gavin, followed the rabbit hybrid’s gaze to the other side of the pool. 

A very fit guy, like, six pack and disturbingly defined arms like he could lift a barge without thinking about it, and wings that were distinctly “hawk” colored pressed back, stood on the concrete across from the trio. He was staring very intently in their direction. 

Michael noticed quickly that Ray had stopped breathing, as if he were hoping that if he stayed still enough, he would be unseen. Gavin seemed to just be catching up with current events and gave a tiny gasp when he spotted the hawk hybrid. Or maybe it was a hiccup. Either way, his wet wings puffed out and he crouched a bit lower into the water. 

The dude wasn’t moving, aside from his eyes, which flicked back and forth from Gavin to Ray with a hunger that made Michael very uncomfortable. He wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but Ray looked like he was having a stroke and Gavin seemed to be hyperventilating. He was either going to stand his ground or walk away. “I think we should go.” The red head said, very quietly. The hubbub of the pool continued around them, with children screeching and splashing and parents shouting for them to stop. But even through the back noise, both of his companions seemed to hear him. 

“Yeah,” Gavin breathed. Ray didn’t respond aside from a very slight twitch of his ear. With Michael guiding them, the three climbed out of the water and walked slowly to Lindsay and Meg, eyeing the man on the other side of the concrete all the while. 

Gavin had grasped on to Ray’s wrist at some point to coax him along at some point during their short journey. Lindsay laughed a bit and pointed at their contact, but stopped abruptly when she saw the look on all of their faces. They all walked back towards the gates, carefully sandwiching Gavin and Ray between Lindsay and Meg and leaving Michael in the rear to watch the hawk guy as they left. He was missing from his spot by the time they reached the gate. As he glanced around, Michael couldn’t seem to locate him anywhere in the pool area, either. “That guy is missing.” He whispered as they left the area. 

As they reached the door, Michael worriedly watched Ray grow more agitated, constantly looking over his shoulder and rubbing at his neck. His pupils were blown, despite the bright light overhead. The red head decided to try and calm him down before they went back up, sending the rest of the group ahead after a short quip at Lindsay to not fall asleep before she let them in. 

“Hey, man, are you okay?” 

“’M fine.” Ray whispered, staring down at his feet. 

“No, really. Do you need to go home? I can call you a cab or something if you need.” 

“It’s fine. I just got kinda freaked out when that asshole was staring at me, ya’know?” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to stay, it really is okay.” 

Ray looked up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I’ll be fine. Thank y-” The last word rose into a sharp gasp. His eyes were focused on something behind him, and Michael’s reflexes had him whirled around so quickly he got a bit dizzy for a moment. 

The hawk asshole stared them down from only a couple feet away. 

“Dude, why the fuck are you here? Why were you staring at us?” Michael demanded, rising into alpha male as Ray shrunk back in horror. 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous for you to be all by yourself? Just a rabbit and a kitty cat in a world full of wolves and hawks?” His stony expression twisted into a grin. 

“Fuck you. You’re just a pathetic asshole, looking to justify himself by threatening strangers.” 

“Strangers.” he repeats that word, out of all of them. Michael glares a hole into his forehead. 

“Fuck off.” Michael grabs Ray’s arm and pulls him through the door and up the rest of the way to his apartment. At the last flight of stairs, Ray stops and grabs Michael’s shoulder. 

“That guy. He lives in my apartment building. We get home at the same time, he watches me. How did he... Why is he here?” 

Michael’s eyes widen. Someone is stalking his friend. What the fuck. 

“Come on. Let’s get inside.” He says after a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone comes up with a cat pun using "parkour" please tell me.  
> EDIT: purrkour  
> thank you anon you are god


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. I don't have anything to say for myself about why this took so long.
> 
> Wait yes I do.
> 
> Highschool happened. Kicking my anxiety disorder into remission happened. My dad getting a new job happened. A lot of things did what things tend to do; they happened.
> 
> And now, this chapter is happening. So that's pretty cool, I guess.
> 
> I won't make any promises or anything, but I'm hoping to get a weekly update type of deal going. We'll see!

In the course of two weeks, it went from bad to unthinkably worse.

More and more restrictions were put on prey animals. People were fired from their jobs and a full new front of discrimination that seemed ready to challenge Jim Crow Laws in a battle for who was worse. Despite the new laws, street violence increased. The police force did next to nothing about it; all of the prey animals had been quietly let go or transitioned to desk jobs, making the face of the defenders of law a very predatory one.

The hawk guy from the pool, or Dickface, as he had been nicknamed, started showing up at Ray’s door in the ugly hours of the morning with “gifts”. A broken Xbox controller. A single red rose. A picture of Ray when he was in third grade. Michael had picked him up fifteen minutes later. Ray starts to stay with Michael and Lindsay. He is rarely alone.

Just as fast as legal discriminations came, new beauty standards set by celebrities everywhere were suddenly blasted on every screen in the country. Rhianna cleans her fur with this super expensive shampoo! Neil Patrick Harris uses this natural oil lotion on his wings! Harry Styles likes girls with sleek, thin tails! Tell them Avril Lavigne sent you and get your wings thinned for 10% off!

And then came the Workplace Safety Act.

Predators and Prey cannot work together in office spaces of less than 4000 square feet.

The new office had been cemented as their workspace in barely enough time to pass, so Roosterteeth was safe from the new law. Other businesses, especially those that were small and local, had no such luck. And, predictably, it was the prey animals that took the burdens of this new ruling. Many began to lose their homes. The local soup kitchens could barely keep up with the new surge of hungry people who couldn’t afford anything.

The streets became a war space at that point. It was rare to pass by a prey animal without some means of self-defense clear out in the open. Pepper spray, pocket knives, brass knuckles, a small gun. Jack came back into the office looking shell-shocked and more than a bit winded one day. On his way to get lunch, a rat hybrid had felt he was walking too close to them and pulled a knife. Jack had barely managed to dodge the first few swipes before booking it the hell out of dodge.

There were regular protests. Riot control turned up fast on every account, and... It was never pretty. Peaceful signs and chanting became a bloodbath and a pretty little cover story, if they were covered at all. The news outlets suddenly stopped chattering about the violence caused by the new laws. Pretty much anything that spoke out against the laws was silenced almost immediately. Even the internet was full of blank spaces where analysis and protest should have been.

It was abundantly clear that the world had begun a new order.

Michael stands immediately when he spots Ray leaving the investigator’s office.

“Well, what did he say?” He doesn’t have to ask. Ray’s face says it all.

“That it’s my fault. They won’t do anything about it.”

The car was filled with the heavy sort of anger that couldn’t be used for anything productive. Michael found it hard to focus on driving when the all-consuming rage within him was violently demanding that he destroy everything around him. Ray placed a hand on Michael’s arm near his wrist after he started screaming at the car in front of him to “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY BEFORE I RUN YOU THE FUCK OVER.”

It was a fairly intimate gesture for them; despite their bro date, they weren’t as inclined to gestures of affection that involved physical contact. That was more of a Nice Dynamite thing. But Michael appreciated the touch nonetheless; it was something to ground him, to remind him that he wasn’t putting only his own life in danger when he let his anger get the better of him. Michael made himself calm down enough to make the drive back to his apartment, and Ray didn’t move his hand until they were parked. Neither of them say anything about it.

When they get to the office the next day, every face is grim. No one wants to tell them what’s going on, but the trio does receive many pointers towards the Achievement Hunter office. They start out walking. When they see Kdin’s face from where he stands in the hall a few doors down, they run.

What greets them on the other side of the door are four men in black suits with gun holsters at their hips glaring around the room. One of them, who Michael instantly pegs as the leader, is staring down at Geoff with the aid of his small height advantage. The other three men are standing on either side of the door and at Gavin’s desk.

“Look, dude,” Geoff says, leaning into the wolf hybrid’s face. “All I want to know is why you’re taking him.”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, sir.” He responds calmly.

“What the hell is going on here?” Michael asks. Gavin speaks up quickly from Michael’s desk, where he’s sitting. His feathers are very puffed up.

“These dudes just came in and said I have to go with them, and that it’s a matter of national concern or something. But I haven’t done anything!”

“Mr. Free, we just need you to come with us.” The man at Michael’s desk takes a step towards Gavin. Gavin scoots back a couple of inches in retaliation.

“I was military, assholes. I know my rights, and I know his. You have to tell him why and where you’re taking him, and I think some badges are in order as well.” Geoff looks just short of charging the dude that continues to creep towards Gavin.

“Mr. Free, you were born in England, correct?”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes. I was born in Oxfordshire. What do you want?”

“I don’t suppose you have your passport.”

Gavin grits his teeth. Geoff starts to protest, but the wolf hybrid places a hand calmly on the butt of his gun. The change is fast and stark. The man by Gavin grabs his wrist and pulls him to his feet. Geoff starts to protest, and the wolf hybrid pulls his gun, efficiently shutting him up. The men leave, Gavin in tow.

As soon as they’re out the door, Jack lowers his phone out and Geoff is yelling out the door at Burnie.

“I recorded everything,” Jack says to no one in particular.

But they can’t do anything. And the black van that Gavin is loaded into leaves the parking lot three minutes later. The office is silent for many minutes, aside from Geoff softly crying into Burnie’s shoulder and the man whispering comforts to the ram hybrid through his own tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salt-stained picture frames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-y long chapter to make up for my leave of absence from before. Or something. I almost cut it off earlier, but I didn't.
> 
> Little OC action there, but that's pretty much the most they'll be involved in any given chapter.
> 
> We're picking up speed here, so things are going to be getting complicated here soon. Hold on to your hats, kids.

The thing he hates most is the food.

Gavin Free had grown accustomed to the finest food that Texas had to offer, coming either from the one and only Geoffrey Ramsey or a Ramsey-Free approved steakhouse/bar/etc. But here, there are cubes of what might have at one point been bread and your choice of sugarless fruit jello or nonfat yogurt. Only water to drink, but Gavin didn’t have his access to it limited like some of the other inmates.

He started sitting with a couple of nice ladies he had met a few days in, and they were the only thing keeping him from jumping a security guard at this point. Not that he would actually be able to get even three feet from one without getting tazed, but you get the point. Cain and Robin were their names, Cain being a blue jay hybrid and Robin a cockatiel, complete with feathered crown that perked out of her hair when she was surprised.

They shared dark hair and eyes, but that’s where their similarities ended. Cain had introduced herself as an ‘angry Cambodian chick’ and Robin had followed soon after as a ‘pissed off Mexican bitch’. It certainly hadn’t been their kind attitudes that drew him in, but their accents had certainly contributed. When he had asked about it, they had explained that they were from other places, but were raised in Oxfordshire for the majority of their lives.

Cain had been brought in first three weeks ago, and Robin one week ago. Then Gavin arrived a few days after, and they had bonded slowly over chattering about trivial things like their irritation and how they missed home and what was going on.

“Really, though, I don’t even understand why I’m here. They haven’t done anything besides take me here to eat three times a day and let me have recreation time or whatever it’s called.” Gavin makes sure he speaks loud enough for the nearby security guard to hear, though the rotation has some kind of dog with some great, towering ears, so they probably would have heard him even if he was whispering. That made it all the more satisfying to yell.

“Oh god, the bullshit recreation time. I don’t fucking want to play Uno, I want to kill a man and bang someone.” Cain groans. A fun fact about Cain was her very open sexuality. Another fun fact was that if you asked her if it meant she was attracted to pans, she would find the nearest smashable object and hit you over the head with it.

“I just need to go for a fly. If I don’t fly soon, I’m probably going to go ballistic.” Robin sighs, running a hand through her curly locks. They were looking about as clean as Gavin’s after a good week or two without any proper soap. The best they got was a five minute ‘shower’ where all they were given was body wash and they had about one shower head for every three dudes. The ladies, obviously, showered separately. The only time they were together was during meal periods. Oh god, Gavin needs to stop thinking about the girls showering together. Stop it, stupid mingy little arse-

“Gav, you okay?” In that moment, Cain’s voice is laced with familiarity as the usual bearer of such a phrase flashes behind Gavin’s eyelids. He can’t help the cold shiver that runs through him at the image of his red-headed companion, newly married, standing shell-shocked in the doorway while he was dragged out of the room by his arm.

There was so much pain in that gaze. Gavin never wants to see it again.

“Hey, uh, do we need to call a guard or something?” Robin pulls him out of his mind. She’s leaning across the table, hand on his shoulder.

“No, no, sorry. I’m... It was...”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.” Robin pulls back and exhales deeply through her nose while shooting him a sympathetic look. “It’s... Really scary to be here. We just have to make it through. We’ll make it through.”

Gavin can’t seem to shake the sudden weight of something heavy on his shoulders. Never before had he understood what people meant when they described an impending sense of doom, but now?

He felt it.

The end of the lunch period is signaled by a loud blaring tone played through the speaker system present in every room and hallway. Slowly, Gavin rises from his seat and takes his tray to the garbage can, where he scrapes the remainder of what was advertised as “blueberry yogurt” and a stale cube of bread out of their little sections. He leaves the tray in its designated spot near what he presumes to be the kitchen doors and proceeds toward the swinging doors, heading for the recreations room fir free time, as per the usual.

A guard stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Free,” his voice is flat and lifeless. “Your schedule has been changed. You will be going to see Dr. Feliark. I will escort you.”

Dr. Feliark was the one responsible for whatever thing was making some of the other inmates’ feathers fall out. He was responsible for withholding water and food from some, and for the screams Gavin sometimes overheard while walking from his room to breakfast. He had mostly kept his nose pointed down and tried to avoid bringing any sort of attention to himself, even if that meant being kept in the dark about what exactly went on at this government facility. He had started to think that he was safe from the reaches of the horror stories told by rasping voices a few tables over.

Guess that one didn’t quite stick.

He tries to maintain at least some of his dignity and manages to keep his legs from shaking too bad as the guard leads him down the winding hallways. His legs seem steady enough to do the job, but his hands are another story. Gavin briefly considers making a jump for the wolf hybrid’s gun, but thinks better of it when he almost falls after his left wing crushes against something unexpected.

They reach a door with a lock that the guard has to punch a security code into and swipe his badge through to open. The pit in his stomach grows ever-heavier when he gets an eyeful of what awaits on the other side.

\-----

“No, he- Yes, I understand that, but they can’t just- Yes. I just fucking said yes, fucking listen! No, he is not a homeowner. What the hell does that even have to do with this? I don’t know, they just- No. He pulled a gun. The leader did. _The leader pulled a fucking gun._ ”

“ _Geoff._ ” Jack hisses from his position at the desk, staring down the ram hybrid with cold eyes.

Though Geoff doesn’t look at Jack, he drops the phone to shoulder level and covers the receiver with the hand not holding it and lets out a long sigh before lifting it back to his ear and proceeding in a slightly calmer tone.

This had been the last several hours. Geoff pacing around the office, phone in hand, slowly becoming more frustrated as he was sent from department to department in a seemingly endless chain of being on hold and being “connected” to someone who could help. The rest of the office had done their best to be supportive and try and get some work done, but most of their time was spent staring at their timeline and dragging random clips around or glancing at Gavin’s empty seat every few seconds.

Jack was the only one who dared to stop Geoff when he started cussing out the workers. In all likelihood, any other person would have been smashed into fucking oblivion by the curling horns resting on Geoff’s head.

Though none were especially pleased that afternoon, Ray was by far the most miserable. The night before, Dickface had sent quite a few messages to his Facebook, Skype, and personal email. After blocking him on all three, he showed up a few minutes later with alternate accounts, repeating his barrage of messages. A second wave of blocking brought upon the same result. Ray had given up at that point and simply surrendered his passwords to Michael and Lindsay so he could try and regain some piece of mind.

The police had made it perfectly clear that they weren’t going to do shit about some random guy stalking him. Ray remembered with painful clarity the disdainful look the investigator had given him when he was explaining. _It sounds like you’re blowing things out of proportions,_ he had said. _This guy is just trying to befriend you. Besides, if you can’t even give me a full name, it sounds a hell of a lot like you’ve been brushing him off, and now you want to spite him with legal troubles._

Mostly, Ray wanted to be alone in a room without feeling like his chest was going to explode.

His phone lighting up catches the peripheral of his lovely view of Gavin’s desk. Ray slides the phone into his hand and unlocks it with practiced ease, flinching a bit when Geoff screams at whoever is unlucky enough to be on the other side of the line , and unlocks it. He has a new text, from a number and area code he doesn’t recognize.

_September 15, 1989._

After that was an image. Ray slammed his phone down on his desk and bolted from the room, heading for the nearest bathroom, where he could vomit up his light lunch and stare himself down in the mirror while he cried.

Footsteps approached the door steadily, then hesitated outside before knocking a couple of times. “Ray? Are you okay?” Michael. Michael had come to check on him. Ray tried to compose himself, but he could barely force himself to keep breathing. So he blindly stumbled to the door (his glasses were lying on the floor, abandoned) and unlocked it, immediately stumbling back when Michael pushed it open.

Michael catches his arm before he can hit the ground and pulls him back up to his feet, pressing his other hand onto Ray’s shoulder to steady him. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks quietly.

“Michael!” Ryan calls from down the hall. Michael looks over his shoulder and chews his lip for a moment. “You’re gonna want to... Just, come look at this!”

Michael sighs and wraps Ray’s arm over his shoulder, leading the sobbing man back into the Achievement Hunter office. Ryan stands next to the Puerto Rican man’s desk, covering the screen of his phone with one hand and pushing at Jack’s shoulder with the other.

He over at them with a very grim expression. Michael deposits Ray in the nearest chair and walks quickly to Ryan, taking the phone from his hands and staring hard at the glowing screen. Ray watches his expression fall through a blurry filter, brought on by the lack of prescribed glass and the abundance of salty tears.

Even through all of that, he can pinpoint the exact moment Michael realizes what he’s looking at. “No,” is all he says. Then, he’s by Ray’s side again, pulling him up and walking him somewhere. The younger realizes that they are heading for the exit and quietly mutters about leaving his glasses in the bathroom.

They trek back and retrieve the abandoned frames, but Michael refuses to let Ray place them back on his face, saying that they were dirty from sitting on a bathroom floor. He isn’t sure if the redhead is being reasonable and his judgment is impaired by the waves of horror, paranoia, and anxiety ripping through him, or if Michael has some kind of ulterior motive. He can’t bring himself to care either way. Ray’s world remains blurry as he is loaded into the passenger seat of Michael’s car and buckled in.

Michael drops his backpack into the foot space of the passenger side and presses his phone to his ear. He gathers some amount of sense and rifles through his bag for a beanie to pull down low over his head, flattening his ears to the side and relieving some of the embarrassment of their usual wild swiveling when he’s emotional.

A few minutes pass, and Lindsay climbs into the back of the car. They pull out of the parking lot and start heading toward the Jones’ apartment. Ray finds himself drifting into a troubled doze as exhaustion sweeps over him.

Back in the Achievement Hunter office, sitting inconspicuously on Ray’s desk is an iphone. Behind a passcode lock, the screen still displays a text with only the words _September 15, 1989_ and a picture.

The picture is of Ray, during his first seconds of life, still cradled in his mother’s arms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call into a void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM DONE WITH SCHOOL FOR THE YEAR.  
> You know what that means? REGULAR UPDATES AGAIN.  
> Next chapter will be the last. This is not the final work in this series. Everyone, please secure your safety belts and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

Gavin Free wakes up.

A few minutes pass before he can remember that Gavin Free is his name.

Twenty minutes pass before the pain hits him.

Gavin Free passes out.

\--

Geoff's entire existence is consumed by anger, anxiety, and restlessness. He can't sleep. He can barely make himself eat. He spends every waking hour on the phone, consoling someone, or staring silently at his reflection in utter contempt for letting them take Gavin.

At this moment, he is consoling.

"How could they do that? Why haven't we heard anything?" Meg isn't crying, but her voice has certainly taken on a distinct warble and she keeps swiping at her eyes.

"I don't know. It wasn't fucking legal, whatever they did. When I find them, I'm going to fucking-"

"Geoff." Griffon's hand lands softly on his shoulder, a warm, grounding comfort. This moment is not about him. Meg needs to be convinced that everything will be okay.

Probably. No, it'll be fine. Yeah.

"We'll find him," he tries.

Meg nods. When she meets Geoff's eyes, he realizes that he was wrong before; the quiver in her voice wasn't the sound of someone who's about to cry, but of someone who is struggling to suppress true fury.

He feels much the same way. "Those fuck-heads are going down. Fuck all this 'prey versus predator' bullshit. They will not fucking get away with it."

Geoff actually enjoys cooking dinner later that evening, and dammit, it tastes good. A renewed sense of vigor surges through his veins. It keeps the exhaustion sapping at him from stopping his hand as he dials the fifth directory number he'd been given that day.

At around eight, Geoff is stationed on the couch with his phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear and an Xbox controller in his hands. Griffon is settled next to him, and Meg is on the armchair beside the couch, looking totally relaxed while she beats Geoff's ass at Trials.

Two seconds after the 'on hold' music suddenly cuts off mid-beat, Geoff pauses the game and drops the controller into his lap.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi, this is Geoff Ramsey, inquiring about-"

"Gavin Free, right?"

Geoff sits straight up. "Yes." Griffon and Meg pick up immediately on the change and sit attentively waiting.

"I understand that you've been on quite the wild goose chase. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."

"Yeah, it's fine. Where is he?"

"Mr. Free is being contained at a research facility in the pacific northwest. I'm afraid that I cannot go into greater detail than that. His case is classified."

"I'm practically his fucking dad. Just tell me what's going on."

"Well, as you may know, the scientific community is really uncertain about what exactly... Happened. Mr. Free was found to be an ideal candidate for research."

"What kind of research?" Geoff forces himself to relax when the tension in his jaw makes it near impossible to form the few simple words of his response.

"I'm afraid that's classified."

"You had better not be hurting him. Also, when the fuck did he consent to any of this shit?"

"Sir, please calm down. Mr. Free is absolutely fine with what is happening. It's mostly just a few simple blood tests and injections-"

"Gavin hates needles."

Silence.

"Mr. Ramsey, you used to be a military man, as you so colorfully informed the agents who picked up Mr. Free. As such, you must understand that drastic measures must be taken to ensure the survival of our nation."

"He isn't even from here!"

The man on the other end of the phone seems to consider this for a moment. "No, he isn't. Perhaps that's the point. You'll be informed when Mr. Free is released."

The line clicks and Geoff's iPhone plays the triple beep tone indicating that whoever you were talking to hung up.

He knows Griffon and Meg are expecting him to explain, but he forces himself to take several deep breaths first. Geoff is generally a calm man, and he's been told that his laid back demeanor makes him the ideal boss. Right now, his head is itching and he’s ready to smash his horns into the nearest surface until it’s nothing but rubble.

“They took him for some bullshit medical research or something. They claim that he’s consented to everything, but the dude mentioned lots of needles.”

“Did they say where he’s being kept?” To the untrained eye, Griffon would simply appear mildly concerned. Her loving husband has to resist the urge to flinch away when he recognizes the collecting fury in her eyes.

“Pacific northwest, apparently.”

Griffon blinks a couple of times and brushes the hair away from her eyes, pinning it to the top of her head with one callused hand. “I’ll bet you he’s at OHSU.”

“OHSU?” Meg echoes quietly.

“A medical research facility in Portland. We need to do some digging, but I’d put half this house on him being there.”

“How do we dig?” The chinchilla hybrid sits up and looks to Griffon with rapt attention.

“We can’t search anything with any of our devices. There’s no way they aren’t monitoring us.” Geoff folds his arms and stares at the cream shag carpet. He remembers the day Gavin moved in, and how he had pondered the hilarity of naming a type of carpet after sex. Geoff had hit him lightly on the head and laughed.

“We can search for stuff at the library. They won’t be watching there.”

He looks over to Griffon. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

She smiles. “Yes. But you could afford to tell me more, husband of mine.”

\--

Cain doesn’t so much sit so much as fall into her seat across from Gavin. She’s missing the majority of the feathers on her left wing, leaving the pink, scaly flesh exposed where brilliant blues and whites and teals used to be. Her right wing is in slightly better shape, but what feathers remain attached on either side are stringy and curved away from the base of her wing in a way that screams something here is not right.

Gavin barely has the strength to acknowledge her presence.

“Robin is dead.” He lifts his chin up a centimeter and meets her gaze. Once proud eyes are now dark orbs in a sea of salt and inflammation. “She dies of radiation poisoning. They’re pumping us full of radiation.”

“Is that what they’ve been putting in your IV’s?”

“I think so. This is like... Some fucked up version of chemotherapy, I think. In any case, I’ve been having that same shit pumped into me for a month.”

Gavin returns his gaze to the cold, flavorless soup in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Cain shakes her head. “It’s... It isn’t your fault, man. You don’t look like you’re having all that great of a time, either.”

He moves the spoon a few centimeters closer to him. It rubs against the edge of the metal bowl with an unpleasant ringing sound.

“What’ve they been doing to you, anyway?”

What have they been doing? They’ve been asking him questions. Questions that he does not have even a ghost of an answer to. Not a single one of them made even a bit of sense to him. Why do they want to know things about his life growing up? Why do they care how many times he visited America or saw Americans in the flesh before he was twelve?

And why do they keep asking him about goddamn butterflies?

Gavin didn’t have an answer to any of their queries. Or, he had an answer, but it wasn’t a correct answer. Of course, they weren’t interested in any of that, and let him know in a very unpleasant way.

Cain clears her throat. She’s still waiting for an answer. Gavin slowly forces his aching muscles to carry his weight from the bench to standing behind it. He grabs the hem of the drab brown shirt thing they gave everyone at the facility and lifts it up to the bottom of his ribcage. Cain audibly gasps, dropping the spoon she was carrying to her mouth and spilling soup on her shirt.

Gavin can’t blame her. His reaction was similar upon discovering the dark blooms of bruises and the shiny burns decorating the spaces between them. Wordlessly, he lowers his shirt back down and takes his soup to the trash. He never took a bite.

\--

“Okay, this is absolutely fucking insane. Geoff, we can’t just... This won’t work. They’ll shoot us or something.” Jack is pacing worriedly through the office and expressing his worries while Geoff writes out a plan on paper.

“It has to fucking work. They kidnapped my son, goddammit!”

“Geoff, we’re worried too, but... This is kind of crazy.” Michael murmurs from his position as the door guard. Every achievement hunter but one is present and accounted for in the main area of their office. Jack had been the first to notice Geoff’s scary determined look and his confusion and concern had drawn Team Thugs from their office. Michael had been placed at the door to keep anyone from getting in while Geoff worked on his plan.

“How many people are going to help me save Gavin?” He cuts Jack off mid-way through another round of ‘you’re crazy’ and stares coldly around the room.

No one seems completely prepared to commit to anything. Michael and Lindsay exchange a worried glance while Ryan looks over to Ray, who stares solemnly at the floor. Caleb glances first at Geoff, then shies away from his stare and looks at Kdin’s shoes instead. Kdin stares at the ceiling.

“Geoff...” Lindsay rubs at her arm.

“How many people are going to help me save him?!” Geoff shouts.

For a few agonizing seconds, everything is still. Then, someone raises their hand.

“Ray, you don’t have to-”Geoff’s tone is considerably softer than the last time he spoke.

The Puerto Rican cuts him off. “Yes, I do. I need to help him. He’s my friend.”

Slowly, seven more hands raise. “Excellent.” Geoff’s serious expression resolves into a casual grin. He flips his notepad around. “So, here’s what I had in mind...”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I move away from this place  
> in the form of a disturbance  
> and enter into the world  
> like some tiny distortion

The plane ride would have only been four hours, but the chances of them not taking suspicion to Geoff and the other Achievement Hunters suddenly all having tickets straight to Gavin were high enough that the risk wasn’t worth it. Their only advantage is surprise, so losing that is essentially losing Gavin.

And Geoff will not lose Gavin.

The plan instead is to drive there. 2,056 miles from Austin to Portland. Eight people, two cars, seven capable drivers. The decision was to just straight shoot it and take shifts driving, with each shift going about 250 miles. They would bring food with them in the car and try to sleep when they weren’t driving, or in Ray’s case, navigating. The only time that they would stop would be at rest stops.

Even so, it will be 32 hours.

From Austin to Sterling City, Geoff and Michael are driving.

Geoff is manning “Team Muscle Action Vehicle,” which carries himself, Ryan, Jack, and Kdin. 

Michael is driving “Team Speed Escape Car,” which carries himself, Lindsay, Caleb, and Ray.

“The faster we get out of Austin traffic, the fucking better.” Geoff mutters, hands clasped at ten and two.

“I’M NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN,” the collective members of TSAC scream. “GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM!”

**SHIFT 2: Sterling City to Roswell, New Mexico (259 Miles) (413 Miles Travelled, 1643 TO GO)  
DRIVERS: Lindsay, Kdin **

“Are there any carrot sticks?” Ray rummages through the plastic bags filled with food.

Lindsay smiles. “Yeah, in the cooler under Mr. Sleepy Cat’s feet.”

Ray carefully pulls the cooler out from under Michael’s feet, taking care not to wake him. The rabbit slides the lid over and perks up excitedly when he notices the bag of baby carrots buried under a few cans of Redbull.

“You really do like those things, huh?” Lindsay murmurs.

“Yeah. They’re really good. And I’ve eaten so many that I can see in the dark now.”

“Almost like you have... X-Ray vision?”

“Oh, hey Barb. When did you get here?”

Their laughter rouses Caleb. “I’sit my turn to drive?”

“Nah, man. Go back to dreaming about chasing Frisbees.” Ray reaches over the seat to pat his shoulder.

The retriever hybrid chuckles. “Guilty.”

“Geoff, you should really try to get some sleep, man.”

Geoff shakes his head. “I need to be prepared.”

“You’ve been staring at that thing for hours.”

“I know.” The tablet glows blue from the building map Geoff is viewing. Ryan managed to fish the plans out from the architect’s website and had given it to the ram for studying. They still needed a way into the building once they got there.

Ryan had spent the first hour or so of Kdin’s shift staring over Geoff’s shoulder and studying the blueprints with him, making suggestions for possible ways in. So far, there had been little progress made, and the younger gent was now asleep, his head resting against Jack’s shoulder.

“You aren’t really going to make any good progress at this point. You’ve been awake for, like, 20 straight hours.”

“I had coffee.”

“When?”

“I don’t fucking know, Kdin,” he sighs. “Just drive, ad don’t worry about me.”

Kdin opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it.

**SHIFT 4: Cuba to Monticello (228 Miles)(1006 Miles Travelled, 1050 TO GO)  
DRIVERS: Michael, Jack **

Ray wakes up to Caleb soulfully attempting to sing along to every part of “Living on a Prayer” at once, including the instruments. Michael and Lindsay are providing him with some stellar backup, but there’s just no way to perfect that harmony like Bon Jovi does. He joins them in trying anyway. Somehow, being cooped up in a car for 15 hours is the most fun he’s had in weeks. He’s with three friends who care about him on his way to save another friend, and...

Every little green marker they pass indicates another mile he is away from a certain hawk hybrid.

He supposes it’s a bit selfish to think of himself when he should be focusing on saving Gavin, but Ray can’t help but be relieved by the distance. There’s no way that he can follow them this far. He’ll be safe for a while, even if they’re planning on breaking into a government-research-turned-health facility.

The opening notes of Take Me There draw him out of his own mind. “Shit, I love Rugrats!”

**SHIFT 6: Provo to Jerome (269 Miles)(1430 Miles Travelled, 626 TO GO)  
DRIVERS: Caleb, Kdin **

“What do you think he’s going to do once we get there?” Kdin is careful to be quiet. Ryan and Geoff are fast asleep in the back seats. Jack sits in the passenger seat, looking out into the night sky.

“Why are you asking me?” he replies quietly after a moment. The stars are more clear out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere than they are anywhere near a city. He wishes they could stop and turn out the lights of the car and just stare at the heavens above for a while.

“You know him the best, and when I asked him, he just kept repeating that we’re gonna save Gavin.”

Jack closes his eyes and turns away from the window to look at Kdin. “He’s going to do something stupid, but he’s going to do it well. Geoff may be impulsive, but he isn’t reckless, and he certainly won’t do anything that would end up hurting Gavin. Not if he can help it.”

“Do you really think we can get him? Just, bust in there Mario style and rescue the British princess, no questions asked?”

The lion hybrid smiles softly. “I live the impossible every day of my life. I work at a company where I get to play games all day. I married an Australian girl who I love more than anything that I met only because of the job. I get to laugh and have fun and smile and I get paid to do it. A few months ago, everyone turned part animal. Politicians are making shit up as they go along, and the majority of the country is rolling with it. I’d say at this point that anything is possible.”

“God, I hope so.”

\--

“Wake up.”

“Ngh. Don’t want to.”

“Gavin, come on. We’re meeting Michael and Lindsay for lunch!”

“We can have lunch tomorrow.” Geoff huffs and grabs the edge of the covers, yanking them away from the bed and flooding the sleepy British boy with sunlight streaming in through the curtains. Gavin squawks and rolls off of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. “Geoff!” he shouts.

“Come on, get dressed. We gotta go, we’re already running late!”

Gavin climbs to his feet and points accusingly at Geoff. “That was not very nice!”

Geoff folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “If you’d like, I can let Griffon get you ready-”

“No! No, that bloody mascara wouldn’t come off completely for days!” The Brit scampers to his dresser and pulls out a random shirt, then scoops his jeans up from the floor. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Geoff rolls his eyes and leaves the room, heading back to the main house. Gavin follows a few moments after. Geoff kisses Griffon and Gavin gives her a kick hug, and then they’re off. The traffic isn’t terrible for a Sunday afternoon in Austin. Wrecking Ball comes on the radio and Gavin makes a spectacular Vine of Geoff singing along heartily.

They make it on time, but just barely. Lindsay and Michael had already staked out a table and waved excitedly when the two entered the building. The rest of the lunch is a blur of laughter, glares from the elderly couple in the booth next to them, and the manager timidly asking for autographs.

“Do you want to come with me to buy Griffon more spray paint, or do you want to kill time?”

“The arts shop smells really weird.” Gavin wrinkles his nose. “Can I have a few quid?”

Geoff passes him a few dollars. “Fucking weirdo. Don’t let your phone die. See you in half an hour.”

“Right, then.” Gavin waves watches him walk off in the opposite direction. Once he turns the corner, the Brit walks excitedly down a few blocks to his favorite ice cream place. He gets the same thing he always does; a double scoop of chocolate on a waffle cone. He sits outside at one of the little tables with the umbrella sticking out from it to block the sun.

The flowers are blooming around him, the air is warm, but not too warm, the sweet scent of summer coming on is in his nostrils, and the street is surprisingly, but pleasantly all the same, empty. Gavin watches a butterfly pass overhead and land on a bush of Texas Sage potted in front of the shop. It flutters about on the magenta blooms and then takes off, making a beeline for his table.

“What are you doing?” he quietly asks the butterfly as it wanders closer to him. For a moment, he worries that it’s going for his ice cream, and he clutches it protectively towards his chest and out of the golden-winged bug’s reach. His efforts prove moot when it crawls onto his wrist and sits for a moment before taking off.

Gavin shrugs it off and checks the time. He’s meant to meet Geoff in a few minutes. Wiping his mouth with his wrist, he climbs to his feet and starts to wander towards the arts shop.

\--

**SHIFT 9: Hood River to Portland (62 Miles)(2052 Miles Travelled, 4 TO GO)  
DRIVERS: Caleb, Geoff **

“Okay, assholes, listen up. We’re going to meet at the hotel. It’s the Comfort Suites on 60th avenue. We’re paying with cash and putting the rooms in Kdin’s name. Do not, for any goddamn reason, use any of our regular names while we are outside of our rooms. Better safe than sorry. We’ll regroup in the biggest room after checking in and figure out what the hell we plan to do. Capiche?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“Good. Geoff out.”

“Michael out.”

There’s a click of static, and then the walkie-talkie is silent once more. Every phone but Kdin’s and Caleb’s are turned off to avoid suspicion, just in case the government has been tracking them. All location services on the two BTS Hunters’ phones have been turned off. Ray is in charge of Team Speed’s money, given that he has the finest honed sense for danger and is generally the most inconspicuous of the group. Two thousand dollars in cash makes quite the bundle. He has it sitting comfortably in his left pocket. His phone, useless as it is, remains where it usually sits in his right.

The parking lot of the hotel is not too full. Caleb gets a good spot relatively close to the entrance, so the quartet of hybrids all haul their bags with them to check in. No sign of Team Muscle, but Ray isn’t too worried about it. Geoff had radioed them only minutes ago, and the man had been here before; Griffon was from Oregon, so they visit fairly frequently.

Ray hands Lindsay the bundle of money and ignores the capitalistic sigh of discontent as his pocket is emptied. He busies himself with looking out the window and studying the skyline of the unfamiliar city. It’s pretty, and the bridges lighting up and reflecting off of the water s dusk rolls in are nice, but... He grew up in New York City. You get used to city skylines.

“Come on, TAFKAR.” Michael calls. Ray tries and fails not to laugh at the use of his stupid nickname from his failed Heist. The group walks to the elevator and politely stands aside for a small family (with a very cute girl with antlers and a shirt that read “Deer With It”) and an elderly couple to disembark, then clamber in and press the button for the third floor.

Ray and Caleb are sharing a room with two twin beds, while Michael and Lindsay take one with a Queen next door. The Puerto Rican immediately throws himself across the bed next to the window, yelling out dibs and stretching his limbs out to further prove his claim. Caleb laughs and settles in the other bed.

“Okay, dude. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Like butt sex!”

“Yeah. Like that.”

Team Muscle arrives seventeen minutes after Team Speed settles into their rooms. The groups decide to meet in the room that all four were sharing one floor up (two full beds, a futon and a couch) and figure out where to go from there.

\--

“Mr. Free, what did you do after you met up with Geoff Ramsey?”

“I already told you. We went home, I played Xbox for a few hours, we had dinner, and I went to bed early because I was feeling kind of tired out.”

“Your console has logs of you remaining in game up to 3 AM.”

“I... I don’t remember that, I... Sorry!” Gavin closes his eyes and waits for the pain. Maybe they’ll just use their fists this time, and not the metal bar or the hotplate.

The pain never comes.

“What did your night time routine consist of?”

“B-brushing my teeth? Oh, and usually I would just put on fresh boxers and an old t-shirt, and on nights where I couldn’t get to sleep, I would just play Halo or something until I got tired.”

“Is it possible that you found yourself having trouble getting to sleep, and decided to play a game?”

“I... I guess? I don’t really remember doing that, but I suppose it’s possible.”

The bear hybrid that introduced himself by the name “Mr. Smith” when Gavin had first visited this room writes something down on his clipboard. Dr. Feliark, the aged man who appeared to be crossed with some kind of reptile, judging by his tail, nods slowly and steps closer to where Gavin lays, tied down to a hospital bed by his wrists and ankles and stripped to his boxers.

The doctor looks over him without an ounce of any emotion, positive or otherwise. His analytic, unfeeling nature has lead Gavin to distrust but not dislike the man; he wants to hate him, but such a strong thing as hatred cannot be summoned, no matter how hard he tries.

“Gavin, are you feeling quite alright? You’re looking a bit pale.” Oh, yeah. Dr. Feliark is also the only one in this entire bloody place that calls him Gavin.

Cain used to, but he hasn’t seen her in days.

“M’fine.” he responds on autopilot. Failure to respond to the personnel at the facility garners punishment. All of Gavin’s life is absorbed with avoiding punishment, now. He’s seen some other patients who had long, deep gashes that were just barely healed enough to not need bandage running down their arms, necks, and even faces. Some had been missing multiple feathers, but clearly not from the radiation therapy; the missing patches were red and irritated, and often dotted with still-bleeding holes were feathers were ripped and torn. The most jarring encounter had been with a man with dark skin running into the cafeteria screaming, chased by a great multitude of security agents. They tackled him to the ground and dragged him away, but Gavin had only seen his entrance and then his eyes had gone blank. The man had been entirely missing his left wing. It was just... gone. Completely and utterly gone.

“Alright, then. Let’s talk about when you sat down for ice cream again.”

\--

_“Just try to look like you have every right to be here, and no one will question you.”_

Geoff’s advice runs a mantra into Ray’s mind. He’s wearing a fake ID badge that claims him to be a medical student. It’s pinned to the lab coat he received from the Ram hybrid shortly before the group boarded the tram.

There’s a fox hybrid standing opposite him holding a clipboard and looking bored, and making Ray very, very nervous. He tries not to think about it, but the attempt only makes him think about it more. He reminds himself that the dude would have to get through two dogs, a cat, a lion, a ram, a bull, and a bat. This thought is also failing him. He jumps when someone places a hand on his shoulder.

Oh. Just Ryan, looking at him with a small smile. “R and R connection,” Ray whispers.

“No homo though.” Ryan whispers back.

\--

“I ate the bloody ice cream, and then I went to meet Geoff. What else do you damn lunatics want?” Gavin is shouting now, aggravated past his sense of self-preservation. They weren’t hitting him, or burning him, or pulling his feathers out- they were just flashing bright lights in his eyes and asking him the same question over and over.

“What did you do when you saw the butterfly?”

“I didn’t do anything! What the hell is so important about a fucking butterfly?!”

“What happened after the butterfly landed on your table?”

Gavin lets out a scream of frustration and slams his head back against the bed. This action causes absolutely no satisfaction; it’s a bed, not an operating table or something. Instead, he starts pulling against his restraints. Hard. They told him not to do that in prior ‘sessions,’ and would hurt him in some way if he disobeyed, but that wasn’t happening today.

The material tied around his wrists isn’t budging, but the bird hybrid doesn’t care. He pulls even harder, digging his elbows into the metal sides of the bed for leverage. It hurts like hell to press his arm so harshly into the thin border, but he doesn’t care. The bindings make a weak ripping sound, and then his arms spring free. Gavin quickly sits up and starts frantically undoing the binding on his ankles.

Dr. Feliark sighs, and then there’s something cold and metal pressed against the back of his head.

\--

“Lindsay? What are you doing?” Michael hisses, grabbing his wife’s hand in his own and staring at her in utter confusion.

Her eyes are pressed tightly together and her head is pushes back, almost as if she were trying to

“Oh my god. I can smell him.”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“What? Fucking seriously? Man, lead the fucking way, then!” Michael releases her hand and lets Lindsay by. The German Sheppard hybrid pushes by Geoff and Jack, pulling to the front and walking as normally as she could while still focusing on the familiar smell.

His feather dandruff mixed with his natural musk is not a smell Lindsay Jones could forget, despite her efforts. They slowly make their way down the winding, bleach-white corridors and finally end up in a hallway that ends at a door with a key code lock. “He’s that way,” Lindsay mumbles.

“I got this one,” Ryan announces. The bull makes his way to the lock and inspects it carefully for a few moments, then taps four keys in a sequence. The lock light flashes green and clicks.

“Okay, I’m not even going to ask how.” Geoff shakes his head at Ryan as he passes him.

The door opens into another hallway, this one lined with large wooden doors, rather than other branching off halls like the others had been. At the end of the hall is a blind corner.

“Clearly, the people who use this lock don’t know to use gloves. I just ended up guessing lucky from the combination possibilities.”

“Ryan the secret agent guy,” Michael grins and high-fives the man.

“People,” Ray warns quietly. They all go back to looking like they’ve every right to be where they are.

A couple of men in suits turn the corner ahead of them. One tiger-looking guy, and... Maybe a goat? The pair pass them without a word. Geoff gives his head a slight nod and continues walking confidently down the hall, seven of his eight greatest mistakes in tow.

Something strikes his leg. He topples over, partly from the force and partly from surprise. Something dark, only a few inches long, is sticking out of his leg. It went straight through his jeans. He pulls it out and realizes half a second later and far too late that it’s a tranquilizer dart.

Ryan, Jack, and Michael all hit the floor moments after Geoff does. Caleb screams, and Lindsay starts shouting something unintelligible from where she’s appeared at Michael’s side. Things start to get heavy and blurry all too quickly. Geoff reaches out to Jack, trying to tug the dart from his shoulder. He’s out just before his fingertips can graze the smooth, black surface.

\--

“Don’t make us do something pointless.”

“Just tell me what you want with me.” Gavin chokes out through the sobs wracking his body.

“Did you touch the butterfly?”

“Yes.”

“Did you touch your mouth at all after?”

“No, why would I have-”

He had. Gavin remembers the moment in sudden vivid clarity. He wiped his mouth after he checked his phone.

“I... I did. I wiped my mouth.”

The gun slowly disappears from his head. Dr. Feliark is staring at him with an incredibly intense and very creepy expression. “Gentlemen,” his mouth twists into a demented grin. “We have our Patient Zero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha im not sorry
> 
> Fear not, for this is not the end!
> 
> The last installment in this series will be started next week. It will be called "The Fifth and The Final" and will be comprised of five chapters.
> 
> Chapter summary taken from the lyrics of "Wave" by Beck.
> 
> PS for anyone looking for something to do, I named the doctor after a couple of popular gaming youtubers. Can you guess who?


End file.
